


and be golden in your memory

by smallredboy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Childhood Memories, Gen, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Philip's last hours alive, told through his perspective.





	and be golden in your memory

**Author's Note:**

> so i became a hamilfan in the last few days and im still not over philip dying (will anyone ever be?) so this happened. 
> 
> enjoy! its kind of rly sad though so

He breathes quick— in and out, in and out— as he slowly aims his gun to the sky. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven_ — he sees the gun firing, he hears the gunshot but his mind doesn't register it until it pierces his body, and it hurts.

He falls on the ground, and his eyes are wide open as he hears people yell. He bleeds, he feels it. It's his arm? It's his right hip? It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, and he breathes quick again to try to calm himself down. Was he wrong for following his father's advice? What if he had fired first? Could he deal with having Eacker's blood on his conscience?

He can't wonder for long. Someone takes him and he isn't very conscious until he's in a table, people screaming about how Philip Hamilton had been shot. This will be what I'm remembered for, he thinks, because he knows his father will go down in history, and therefore he will too.

His father kneels next to him and Philip coughs, his mind a hurricane as he tries to make sense of what's happening to him. It hurts, it hurts, and he heard the doctor tell his father the wound is infected. "Pa," he breathes. "I did exactly as you said, pa. I held my head up high."

His father puts his head against his stomach, holding his hands with such strength Philip wishes he could stay just from Alexander's desire for him to live. He made a mistake— maybe Eacker made the mistake of not apologizing. "I know, I know, shh. I know, I know." He repeats it like it could save him and Philip feels so hopeless.

"Even before we got to ten," he tells him, voice broken and high and _desperate_ , because he wants to survive. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. "I was aiming for the sky."

"I know, I know," he tells him, tears forming as he cries softly. "Save your strength," he murmurs as he looks at him, his hands on his as he squeezes. "And stay alive."

"PHILIP!" he hears his mother's scream and he tries to turn around, but it hurts so much he just lets out a gasp of pain. He had taken the painkillers the doctor had given him but it still hurt, it hurt. "Is he breathing, is he going to survive this?" she asks Alexander frantically, and he grimaces as he doesn't answer. "Who did this, Alexander, did you know?"

Philip forces himself to move his left arm, touching his mother's shoulder. Her eyes widen before she kneels next to him, her hand wrapped over his. "Mom, I'm so sorry for forgetting what you taught me," he says, voice weak. His mother starts crying, and everything is slowly getting blurrier and he thinks he's delirious but he also knows deep down he's going to die.

"We played piano," he chokes out. He remembers those nights where they'd play soft melodies, him trying to keep up with how good his mother was at it. "You would put your hands on mine."

"You changed the melody every time," she recalls, her voice empty and full of emotion at the same time. She's gritting her teeth and tears prick at her eyes. Philip starts crying, softly, because he's going to die. _I could've done so much more,_ he thinks.

 _I'm too young, I'm too young, I'm too young._ And God, he wants to do so much more. He laughs softly, despite tears flowing freely from his eyes. "I would always change the line."

"Shh, I know, I know," she whispers as she squeezes his hand, and he hears faintly the sobs of his father.

"I would always change the line."

"I know, I know," Eliza says before she starts to cry, almost as if she knows he's going to die. Her sobs are spasmic and loud, and even though Philip knows he's in his deathbed he feels his heart break.

His mother is the one to start it, her words a little fainter than they are in reality in Philip's mind. He doesn't want to welcome death, he doesn't want to leave, he's nineteen, he has so much to live for. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf." He follows, and he feels memories of when he was nine flood his mind. "Good."

Playing piano, learning French, going to boarding school. "Un, deux, trois..." he says weakly as his mother follows, and his heart aches and his hip and his arm hurt, and he feels sick with himself and with Eacker and with destiny.

"Quatre, cinq, six, sept..."

The last memory that flashes before his eyes is reading The Reynolds Pamphlet, defending his father, his pa with all that he could.

His head falls down in the table, and everything turns black.


End file.
